


Regrets

by twigglettz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And has a thing for redheads, Angst, F/M, Jon Snow knows nothing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twigglettz/pseuds/twigglettz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started off as a reminder, Jon reckoned, a way to keep Ygritte's memory alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

It started off as a reminder, Jon reckoned, a way to keep Ygritte's memory alive. They had the same red hair, messy and tangled and Jon could barely thread his fingers through it. They had the same eyes. Haunted, in a way. They'd both seen horrors and darkness and yet it hadn't turned them to stone. And their hearts. Gods, their hearts. Wild and untamed, both beating in tandem with his own when their tongues wrapped around him, pleasure spiking up his spine, toes curling whilst his peak washed over him. 

Jon wasn't blind, though. He felt Tormund's beard scratching against his thighs, heard his deep voice cut through the haze after Jon had finished, felt his cock against his stomach when he fucked him. He missed the soft swell of breasts under his hands, missed the way Ygritte dripped through the furs. But Tormund was close enough and didn't comment when Jon moaned out her name, so he didn't comment either. 

It was never about love. For all that he'd helped Tormund, it was never because they slept together. Jon's loyalty to him was purely for the sake of the war effort, to save as many of the living as they could. And he had assumed Tormund had known that fact, understood that when they fucked, they were just burning off steam. And then Hardhome happened. 

Ygritte was more stubborn and feisty than any man or woman he had ever met. More headstrong than Arya, tougher than his father. And loyal, in her own way. So when Jon told Tormund to behave himself, he really should have seen disaster coming. 

They'd barely rowed ashore before the Lord of Bones had made a comment on their relationship. Jon knew that there no way he could have known the truth, knew he was just trying to rile Tormund at the very least. For the sake of the peace, he was happy to let it slide. And then Tormund had caved the wildling's head in, stomping off ahead in search of the elders, leaving Jon and the rest of the Night's Watch to hesitantly follow. 

After the attack, after the slaughter, Jon had ended it. Whatever 'it' was. They were on one of Stannis's ships, below deck in the night, and Tormund had come to his cabin, letting himself in with wine in hand. Part of Jon wanted to reach out, curl into Tormund's embrace, fuck him until he forgot the dead could rise. But he was Lord Commander now, and their relationship could fuck up everything he'd worked towards.

"We have to stop." Jon was surprised by how confident his voice was, how composed he sounded, and when he dared glance up, he was surprised when Tormund seemed just as unfazed. 

"Keep the grape water then, Snow." Jon watched as Tormund stood and made his way to the door. He hesitated, just slightly, before opening it and Jon's heart skipped a beat. Then he was gone, the smell of fire and dirt and blood fading from the room along with his footsteps. 

Jon expected it to be awkward between them at the very least, especially at the start, but Tormund seemed to carry on as if nothing happened. The smiles came easy, the jokes didn't stop. Jon would have been convinced that Tormund hadn't understood, but he hadn't set foot in Jon's bed since. So when he had a few hours rest, when he could finally gain release from his own hand, he had no excuse to picture anyone but Ygritte. And Jon was so focussed on not thinking about Tormund, on keeping everyone safe and alive, he couldn't even see the plan by Alliser to usurp him.

It was only after they'd left that he thought of Tormund, that he really, deeply thought of him. He was lying on his back, blood bubbling out of his chest, his whole body lurching with every breath he took, and only then did Jon realise what he felt. If Tormund was rock, then Ygritte was steel. Both strong, both important, but both very, very different. Jon had spent so much time comparing the two that he hadn't seen Tormund as anything other than a replacement. He felt the regret settle in his bones, rage dulling the pain, because how fucking stupid could he have been? He had pushed away the one person that had accepted him, loved him, for exactly who he was. Tormund had looked past his allegiance with the Night's Watch, ignored the cloak and the title, and dared to share the same dream of unity, dared to share his bed even when his people could have turned on him. And what had Jon done? He'd given up their future for the ghost of a memory. He was more of a traitor than Alliser and Ollie combined. 

When Jon closed his eyes, he thought of red beards and calloused fingers between his thighs, the rumble of deep laughter in his ear, tuneless humming lulling him to sleep, and let the guilt swallow him whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on work schedules, there might be a sequel to this if people are interested. Keep an eye out!


End file.
